All in Good Business
by WriterApprentice
Summary: Swindle decides to lay low for a while at his usual hideout, but finds his getaway planet already occupied.
1. Chapter 1: Not so Secret

**Author's Note:** So I've been having fun playing _Sid Meier's Civilization: Beyond Earth_ and wanted to write about space colonizing humans meeting Cybertronians, because we only see present-day humans interacting with the Transformers in well-known canon. _Beyond Earth_ and its lore opens up a lot of possibilities that I want to explore and read about. Unfortunately, there isn't a lot of fics written on _Beyond Earth_ , so this is my contribution to the archive. I hope you all enjoy my fanfic!

 **Chapter Summary:** Swindle doesn't do much in this chapter aside from watching and being judgmental about the humans. This is mostly us getting introduced to a few of the _Beyond Earth_ cast.

* * *

The last thing Swindle expected to find in this sector of the galaxy was actual _sapient_ life.

He wasn't concerned of the potential harm they would pose on him, if any considering their diminutive size; they barely came up to his knees, and primitive technology. He was more bewildered by the fact that in all his stellar cycles of visiting this planet, there was never indication of _intelligent_ life becoming a possibility. Granted that the _native_ lifeforms did exhibit something that Swindle would, begrudgingly, admit as something that didn't have its processor just set on multiplying.

He had a first-servo experience of how the lifeforms on the planet behaved, and how they _barely_ tolerated his presence. Everything was fine as long as you didn't go out your way to bother them, which Swindle certainly wasn't going to do. What would be the point? If they didn't have so much as a linguistic syntax, then they certainly didn't have a mode of currency. Now driving through one of their nests was a different matter.

It was one nest, for AllSpark's sake, and it blended too well with the surrounding landscape. How was _he_ supposed to know they were housing eggs when he ran his vehicle mode right over it? Honestly, the native lifeforms of the planet overreacted a tad bit over a few broken eggs when everything that squawked, chittered, flew, and stomped came at him with a vengeance.

It was like the entire planet was out for his spark as the creatures pelted him with unspeakable green fluids and nipped at his skidplate while he fled. They only stopped when a brute of theirs launched his frame into the nearby ocean. After that harrowing experience Swindle decided to keep his operations isolated in a cave to minimize contact.

Despite the lack of welcome, the intergalactic arms dealer frequented this planet because it served as his secret hideout when deals went bad or the Autobots had picked up his trail. It also didn't hurt that he stored some of his wares here. Sure he had his personal storage dimension, but there was an old Decepticon saying of not storing all your ammo in one warehouse.

Additionally, Autobot territory ran around the sector, which made getting here extremely difficult without triggering an intergalactic incident. Someone like him could traverse undetected through Autobot space, but that's because he made it his business to memorize patrol routes and blind spots to ensure his shipments didn't fall into the servos of those uptight mechs. He also had no fear of the Autobots actually coming to this planet since they forbade anyone to land on planets with a high presence of organic life.

Now while other places, like Quintessa to name a few, provided _much_ better services to a Cybertronian like him (such as all the oil he could drink), planets untouched by sapient life had their charms. Especially when Quintesson hospitality can go so far. Swindle certainly didn't want to be on the other end of Quintesson trade, which often than not involved enslavement. This planet served as his secret getaway.

Well, he couldn't call it a secret anymore thanks to the _non-native_ lifeforms. He only assumed that based on how out of place they appeared on the planet as they mapped out every klik of its surface. Thankfully his little _cave_ of operations hadn't been discovered by the aliens, both native and non. That didn't mean the non-native organics wouldn't eventually find this place and capitalize on his stash.

He saw how they purposefully scoured the planet, salvaging resources from cylindrical pods that were scattered all over the world. If Swindle didn't know better, he would hazard a guess to say they were a colony. Which probably meant that their home planet wasn't far away. That would, unfortunately, put them close to Autobot territory.

That is _if_ Autobots even cared to make contact with a new species in the galaxy. They hadn't done much, if anything, in galactic affairs for nearly 300 million years. Swindle personally believed it was because the Autobot Commonwealth was still sore after getting in a _little_ scuffle with the Quintesson Pan Galactic Co-Prosperity Sphere. Then top that off with a civil war following shortly after.

A new spacefaring species did mean involving the Galactic Council and their community, but Swindle was more than happy to keep this new species in the dark. There was no need to scare the primitives, and he certainly didn't want to spoil a profitable opportunity. A species that was in its infancy of space colonization was perfect to dazzle with something low-tech while he gave himself a hefty earning without revealing much.

Sure it _sounded_ like he was scamming the poor things, who were doing their hardest to survive in an extraterrestrial world, but they'll be happy getting their servos on something new regardless of its quality and function.

First, like every experienced businessbot, he needed to assess his clients before making a move. Luckily his cave gave a strategic view of one of their cities and he was in no hurry to leave. As long as he wasn't burning credits, Swindle had all the time in the universe.

* * *

)))((((()))))(((

* * *

Of all the things Hutama enjoyed before the Seeding; a good, cold tinny during a mild night at Bali was what he missed the most. Regrettably, those comforts were far behind them. Light years away to be precise, and probably several meters underwater considering the lasting magnitude the Great Mistake would have on Earth.

Now instead of enjoying a nice cup of lintong coffee from Sumatra, Hutama and those who came on the expedition were on a planet that, to put it quite mildly, was alien in all regards of human imagination.

Everything from the ground to the air _felt_ exotic in a way that human language, for its complexity and rich development across many millenniums, found itself speechless at the profound environment the colonists set foot on. There were no words, only emotions that conveyed both the wonder and terror the humans experienced. Some were eager to explore and document every dimension of the planet, and others bemoaned all that they had left.

Hutama was more intrigued at the possible ways of chitin being a fashionable wardrobe choice since nothing on this planet resembled either fur or silk.

The people needed materials to protect themselves from the elements, and multipolymer fibers weren't growing on the trees of this planet. Adding to that ever growing to-do list was establishing a sustainable supply of food and producing enough fresh water to keep them from dying of thirst (no consensus from the science bloc on whether or not the water here was potable through basic filtration, so colony water it was lest they all get infected with a brain-eating amoeba).

There was so much that needed to be accomplished that the Polystralian began to wonder if his supporters back on Earth were too zealous in their approval of him. It wasn't like he _himself_ made points to the contrary concerning his competency to leading an expedition, even on _his_ own Internet channel for God's sake!

Speaking of which, he should resume "Question, Minister" once the colony could stand on its own. It was bad enough that the populace was scared witless at everything that went bump in the alien night, but added with fact that they were truly disconnected from the Internet was rubbing salt into the wound.

It would do the colony good to see their illustrious leader flash a genuine smile (none of that politician crap) while he juggled informality with serious discussion topics. All of which were neatly sandwiched by his lighthearted sarcasm and liberal use of flashy production.

The crowd did love good pyrokinetics. And federal transparency. He couldn't forget that part.

For now, Hutama was in his office with eyes focused on his transparent computer monitor. His eyes oscillated from one side to the other as he reviewed the details of a trade agreement. The words of the document were projected on the crystalline body of the monitor, their light glowing sharply as letters and figures embedded their forms on the screen.

The agreement appeared sound, but the Polystralian wanted to inspect everything with great scrutiny. Especially when their neighbor and trading partner was the American Reclamation Corporation, headed by one resourceful and ambitious hardliner by the name of Suzanne Marjorie Fielding.

Correction, _CEO_ Fielding, as she liked to be addressed.

If there was one thing Hutama was grateful for since planetfall, it was that trade, no matter how far flung they were in the cosmos, was destined to flourish as long as there was someone willing to exchange goods for a tidy profit.

It was one consistent trait of humanity he was quite intimate with.

Seeing nothing else out of the ordinary, Hutama decided to contact Suzanne to make their agreement solid. If everything went well and both parties agreed to hold their end of the bargain, then everyone would benefit from the cooperation.

One press of a button on his keyboard and his comlink went to hail the CEO. It took a few seconds before the hail was picked up and a dark bronze-skinned woman appeared on the monitor.

" _Hola_ , this is CEO Fielding of the Ameri- oh, Hutama, I was just about to contact you," the woman started when she noticed who it was. "I assume you're satisfied with the details of our trade agreement?"

"Satisfied and ready to go, _sahabat_ ," Hutama said, flashing a cheerful smile at Fielding.

He often got the impression that the woman erected walls while in his presence, and he could have sworn one of her temples twitched whenever he was being his informal self. There was something distinctly oaken about Suzanne's mannerism, which Hutama blamed on her unyielding formality.

This placed a noticeable distance between them, which Hutama was struggling to hurdle across. He wanted to be on hospitable standing with the CEO, but so far it felt like he was barely making a break.

"That's good to hear," Fielding spoke evenly as she folded her hands. She returned the smile, but the expression never reached her eyes. "I'll have your Trade Convoys loaded once they arrive with the merchandise as per our agreement."

Spoken in true business dress and code.

"Glad to hear that, _Suzanne_ ," Hutama said, purposefully ignoring her title. It felt obsolescent seeing that they were colonists out in the new frontier taming the wild unknown. Again, he swore one of her temples twitched, but that _smile_ of hers never faltered. "Well you have a good day, _sahabat_."

Suzanne gave the Polystralian a curt nod before the comlink was cut from _her_ end.

Absent of company, Hutama allowed himself a sigh and placed a hand over his eyes. He needed to find a way to gain Suzanne's respect and trust. It was fortunate she agreed to work with his colony, but Hutama was certain it wouldn't last.

Trade only prospered if your client had the belief that there was the possibility of them benefiting if no other methods could achieve a better result. Hutama did his homework on Suzanne and looked into her business practices. She was not one to take prisoners if she reasoned they only served to be extra baggage, and Hutama certainly didn't want to find out what her shrewd mind would come up if she felt his colony was nothing but an eyesore.

Having two people adept in economics sharing a planet was a pressure cooker waiting to explode. Though the two of them were presently on cordial terms, Hutama predicted things might start looking like a vicious chess game if he didn't win the support of ARC's CEO. Suzanne would no doubt slip in subtle loopholes to increase her benefits, which would force him to retaliate for the sake of his colony's welfare.

He wasn't above getting his hands into the economic dirt. It was something he was well-versed in and prepared to do. That was how business worked; outperform the competition and be smart about when to stick out that leg to trip them over. Hutama, however, much preferred the sustainable route of making friends you can count on for being there when you're ready to sell.

If only he had _some_ leverage that appealed to Suzanne.

Running a hand through his gunmetal grey hair, the Polystralian decided he was holed up in his office long enough. A visit to the microbiology department sounded nice. Hopefully they found a viable specimen of yeast on this world for his future brewery. One that could make a decent batch and not kill a human with just a whiff, or turn them into mindless zombies. The last two options would definitely ruin his promise of setting up a brewery in the colony.

Beer good, death by mycotoxin bad.

Hutama chuckled to himself and shook his head as he left his office, still puzzled as to how he was elected to lead the Seeding despite all attempts to throw his eligibility out the window.

Fame certainly had a way of coming around to bite back.

* * *

 _"There is a historical idiom which states, 'What you don't know can't hurt you.' It does not apply to fungi."  
_ \- Hutama, _We are All Destined to Prosper_

 **Glossary  
** _Sahabat_ (Indonesian/Malay): (close) friend, friend (person whose company one enjoys)

 _Tinny_ (Australian slang): can of beer


	2. Chapter 2: First Contact

**Author's Note:** Have I ever mentioned how much I hate this site's formatting? Well I'm here to tell you right now. Just trying to get my line breaks to work is enough to make me cry. :')

I really, really despise using the "horizontal line" as a line break because of how far it extends across the page. It feel like it chops off the flow of the story, so I have to be a bit creative. Also the fact that I can't make double spacing work doesn't help matters. Everything is so squished when I upload it. I haven't used this site for many years, and I'm feeling that inexperience. Is there anything this site _doesn't_ gobble up on its Doc Manager?!

Anyways, I hope everyone enjoys this chapter! I've made a few changes in this chapter and the previous. Most of it included reducing the length of the paragraphs.

I have to thank a friend of mine that convinced me that longer paragraphs are not always reasonable and can be quite a strain to read. I should know better since I also get mentally turned off and emotionally exhausted just looking at a thick paragraph. Reading should not always be a chore, and fanfics should be enjoyable to read.

 **Chapter Summary:** They finally meet!

* * *

Swindle spent several of this planet's solar cycle silently observing the non-native aliens, mostly learning a great deal from intercepting their primitive comlinks (surprising how such a backwater species managed to even leave their planet).

A majority of it was trivial, such as how they called themselves Polystralians, who represent a collection of sovereign states called the Commonwealth of the Pacific (which Swindle was relieved to find that aside from sharing one word, acted without the conservative pompousness of the Autobot Commonwealth).

As a whole they called themselves humans, but Swindle found that "flesh bag" was more accurate to describe the humans. The Nebulans were made of tougher stuff than these humans, who couldn't go out the planet without walking in those puffed-up airbags they call exo suits.

They looked so delicate, and yet they were risking it all trying to make a home on the planet.

If the name of their colony was any indication (who in Spark's name came up with a name like _Freeland_?) the organics appeared to be the enterprising sort. Definitely his kind of crowd, but Swindle was more interested in singling out the most influential of the lot, and the designation of Hutama was frequently mentioned.

Undoubtedly the leader, Swindle had seen this fashionably-dressed (he was no aficionado of aesthetics, but the organic certainly had taste) individual multiple times as he operated the colony with authority that was neither Autobot nor Decepticon in manner.

Hutama didn't appear to adhere to a chain of command, but instead balanced bureaucracy with personal oversight for many of the colony's operations. He sought counsel with professional when specialized knowledge was required, or when he humbly admitted to lack experience in certain subjects.

The… _Polystralian_ (the name rolled uncomfortably over Swindle's glossa like a feeding tube forced through between his derma) obviously had a knack with the public as even the most skittish of workers was soothed by his presence alone. If Swindle was to be honest, and he would deny ever admitting it, this Hutama had charisma that could give Megatron a good run for his credits.

Definitely a beneficial business partner for Swindle, especially if the intergalactic arms dealer intended to continue using this planet as a hideout from nosy Autobots and bounty hunters. And maybe, just maybe if the Polystralians proved useful, he could strike a deal with them to ensure his protection in return for some illicit technologies. Swindle was sure he had a few to spare, and ones that the black market wouldn't miss.

First he needed to have a face-to-face with Hutama, which wasn't difficult seeing how laughably easy it was to infiltrate Freeland. The organics had no means of detecting spark signatures and what security forces there was was nothing more than a ragtag group armed with simple projectile weapons.

The minimalist style and size of their weapons made them look like a sparkling's plaything, and Swindle doubted they could take even a flake off his paint job. They probably would have a better chance chucking the things at him, but that was a large stretch.

Still no excuse for him to walk in his robot mode and cause a panic. That was more Blitzwing's flair when he was being Random.

The intergalactic arms dealer found one of their unused Trade Convoys and integrated its form into his frame. Although too utilitarian for his taste, Swindle put up with it as he kept his optics on Hutama while keeping out of sight.

* * *

)))((((()))))(((

* * *

"And you're _certain_ there's nothing we can do about it?" Hutama said.

"Yes, sir," the soldier on his screen replied, helmet and visor obscured all facial features. "Preliminary reports from the science department indicates that the… _Siege Worm_ will just burrow underground if we attempted a ranged assault, and, given its size and power, I highly advise against a direct military strike."

"And as long as it decides to nest under our mines, no one can come even a meter to salvage anything," Hutama concluded, leaning back in his chair with fingers crossed over his chest.

Though Hutama kept his face still to conceal his displeasure, the soldier picked up a slight irritable note in the Polystralian's voice.

"The plus side, sir, is that we've managed to evacuate the civilians before the Siege Worm entered our borders," the soldier offered some comfort.

Well there was a silver lining in the situation.

Hutama vowed to protect all those under his care while he was heading the colony, and he be damned if a single human fell on the alien planet due to his negligence.

"And for that I thank you," Hutama said, leaning forward to deliver a well-meaning smile to the soldier. "Please keep me updated on the situation."

"Will do, sir," was the soldier's last reply before Hutama cut the connection.

Alone in his office, Hutama released a deeply suppressed sigh.

He liked nothing better than to give the Siege Worm, and possibly the entire planet, a few colorful swears in true Commonwealth fashion. Maybe throw a few stomps on the ground with his all-terrain exo boot for good measure. The planet deserved it for being so _creative_ in its ways to ensure every colonization effort went as painfully and horribly as possible.

First he needed to actually observe the situation from the colony's observation deck. Afterwards, if there was still daylight, pay the evacuees a visit for morale sake.

Reaching the observation deck by elevator at the far end of Headquarters, the metaphorical brain of the colony, Hutama arrived at a hexagonal room high above the colony. Behind the safety of tempered glass walls was a spacious view of the landscape.

Excluding the fact that the planet was nothing but feral wilderness that could kill a human ten times over, the place was a sight to behold. Though a far cry from Earth's natural beauty (or what remained of it preserved in media and dwindling parks), the planet was an unending stretch of untouched land.

Lush forests blanketed the rolling hills, giving the illusion of a verdant sea whenever the wind swept against the canopy to rustle the leaves in glossy waves. The forests bled into sweeping, vibrant grasslands with reeds that flowed in tandem with the nearby river meandering its way to the ocean in lazy arches that carved through the ground.

And while Earth was once called the blue marble, this planet adopted every hue and shade of green imaginable. Everything from the mist that obscured the distant plains to the water had a green tint. Even the mountains that crowned the horizon pulsed with veins of emerald-colored minerals that they had yet to name.

If only they could enjoy all this splendor _without_ those damned aliens, Hutama thought sourly.

He noted a plume of smoke that was ruining the picturesque view like a physical rip in a photo.

The guard on duty in the observation deck sensed the purpose of Hutama's visit and wordlessly handed the Polystralian a pair of binoculars. Hutama gave the soldier a thankful nod before taking the binoculars to focus on the source of the smoke.

His eyes captured a scene of utter destruction as a gargantuan worm tore up what used to be a relatively new mine. If the creature wasn't destroying his attempts at colonizing the planet, Hutama would have appreciated the effectiveness and beauty of the worm's spiral body to barrel through the earth like a child playing in the sandbox.

An explosion erupted from the mining site as the Siege Worm managed to disturb a combustion engine in its quest to pulverize the ground to pass into the neverending void that was the creature's gullet. It appeared unfazed by the disturbance as the tube of flesh and chitin continued to practically _swim_ through the mess of dirt and rock. The sudden light, however, caused Hutama to flinch away.

"Bloody hell," he uttered.

That was enough to persuade the Polystralian to avoid considering military action. If even explosives couldn't halt its path of destruction, then nothing in their current power could. The only option was to sit around and wait till the Siege Worm decided to move on.

Hutama never felt so powerless in his life.

The Polystralian returned the binoculars to its owner and thanked the soldier again before departing.

With the elevator speeding back to the surface Hutama checked the chronometer and decided he had enough daylight to spare a visit down to the medical wing. It was a stroke of luck they managed to get everyone out just as the Siege Worm was breaching through the terrain like a submarine would to an ice sheet.

The Polystralian felt his feet press firmly against the floor and pressure concentrating on his legs as the elevator neared the ground floor and began to slow. The elevator made a cheerful _ding_ before the metal door slid out of the way.

Hutama stepped out and into the cavernous passageways of the colony. The passageway was supported by great, arching metal beams that made him feel like he was imprisoned within the chest cavity of a titanic whale. He would know since he walked under the skeleton of one at the Australian Museum in Sydney.

A shame that the last cetacean went extinct 170 years ago, which was 30 years after the Great Mistake. Bad enough that there was barely enough food for them to sustain a healthy population, but the climatic changes and nuclear radiation was the final nail that sealed them in their coffins. He wanted to meet one since hearing of their sociability and intelligence. Sometimes they would sing songs to thank humans who would offer them fish.

Now that would have been a sight to see.

Standing alone, Hutama patiently waited for a spare ride. They were far from a future dominated by flying cars. Despite the inconvenience, Hutama didn't mind public transportation. In fact he used it quite a lot before and after his rise to political power.

The transportation networks back at the Commonwealth allowed him to mingle with the populace, much to the chagrin of Protective Service. Not his fault really, he was no good with some of those _rempong_ politicians in the Commonwealth Parliament.

Of course he had to mingle in disguise as his face was the most recognized in the Commonwealth, which added an entertaining challenge. But here the alien planet they were all in this together just to survive.

Those days of hanging out in the coffee shops of Jakarta or pubs in Adelaide to listen in on his constituency were long gone. Hutama was just another person paving a fearfully unknown path for humanity's future.

Populist history be damned.

An incoming vehicle drew the Polystralian out of his thoughts. He was grateful to receive transportation that he failed to notice its unique coloration, the purple-tinted windows, or the fact that Trade Convoys were not the usual modes of transportation in the colony.

"To the Clinic, please," Hutama instructed as he got in from the passenger end and buckled himself to the seat.

The vehicle drove off and there was a moment of silence before Hutama realized the vacant driver's seat.

"What in God's name?!"

"Oooh, so sorry we had to meet like this," an amused voice vibrated through the interior. "But I needed to find a way to catch your attention, and, well this seemed like the best way to make an entrance, don't you think?"

The disembodied voice spoke in fluent English, but there was a… _synthetic_ quality. It was too crystalline clear to be human.

"Look, mate, I don't know who you are, but you can quit the prank," Hutama spoke hotly, his body pressed firmly against the door like a cornered cat with eyes wide that glanced wildly.

"Prank? I assure you, my good sir, that I come in peace," the voice replied. Hutama noticed the dash flash a soft purple light with every syllable the voice spoke.

"Like hell you are!"

Without warning the Polystralian threw himself out of the still moving vehicle, causing him to roll across the pavement. That was one irreplaceable Thai suit silk ruined.

Once he got his footing, the Polystralian gunned for the main road.

Swindle had expected this bout of desperation (organics were so unreasonable at time), which was why he drove them into a secluded alley. The colony's small population meant that there was little chance anyone would happen upon their meeting.

He rushed in his vehicle mode and swerved to blockade the Polystralian's exit.

"Now let's not be hasty here," Swindle tried to placate the other. "Allow me to introduce myself."

Before a very stunned Hutama, the human watched and slowly backed away as the Trade Convoy dismantled and reformed itself until there was a tall robot standing before him.

"The name's Swindle, and I might have a solution to your problems."

* * *

 _"If you can, touch a Siege Worm as it moves by. That will teach you all you need to know about the insignificance of humanity."  
_ \- Pastor Jack's Homiletics

 **Glossary  
** _Rempong_ (Indonesian slang): fussy, complicated, troublesome, busy


End file.
